


Interlude, With Asides

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Offscreen Violence, offscreen abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doomed young lovers meet after a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude, With Asides

That sweet smile, still a bit shy, as if I might turn him away. Four years since

_since you soiled him since you made him into a filthy thing like you_

we got together and there's still that hesitancy when we greet each other after an absence. When I smile back his eyes light up and he finds the nerve to speak.

"What did you do over the break?"

_committed my first murder. sorry, murders, plural. practiced the Unforgivables on helpless prisoners. oh, and got passed around like a party favor to reward the Inner Circle once or twice. You?_

I take his hand before answering. It's a little cold. He always seems to be a little cold, a little too thin. Fragile. I like it. "Studied. Tried not to get in my father's way. Missed you." He doesn't believe me, of course. He's far too smart not to be suspicious. But he's never pressed, never questioned me. And I'm glad. I don't want to lie to him but I'll do whatever I have to to keep him safe. To keep him mine.

"I m-missed you." When he sounds nervous like that it makes me feel so protective, so possessive, like I want to keep him locked away so no one else can touch him. I pull him close and wrap my arms around him, not caring who sees. "I love you," he murmurs against my neck.

 

His cheek feels cool against my neck, too. He's shaking, just a little. "I love you. And I want to get you somewhere nice and cozy so I can get some of these layers off you without you catching your death of cold." I tighten my grip on him and murmur in his ear, the low growl only he ever hears, "Somewhere where I can get you down on your knees in front of me."

This time when he shivers, I know it's not from cold.

 

There are lots of out-of-the way nooks and crannies in a place as big as Hogwarts. Last year I found what must have been a sitting room of some sort. There was a plush (if dusty and threadbare) sofa, lacquered endtables that must have been lovely before they were faded and peeling, and an absolutely marvelous fireplace. Best of all, it doesn't seem to have been used for decades. I didn't want to attract any attention to the room by fixing it up too much, but I couldn't resist putting a thick, soft rug in front of the fireplace.

 

That's where I lead him now. I know he knows where we're headed as well as I do, but he trails behind me, always a half-step behind. I can feel his narrow chest brushing against my back. It's all I can do not to ravish him in the hallway, pressed up against the stone wall.

 

_stone wall against my back, that pretty, aristocratic face leering down at me, spitting defiance up at him even as he's grinding into me, rough, and I'm laughing even though I'm bleeding because I know something he doesn't, something he wants so badly, and I'm going to have a little fun with him before I give it to him even if I have to let him think he's in control first... and then I can put the fear of the Dark Lord into him before bringing him into the fold and He'll be pleased with me when I bring him this one..._

Our snug little room is just as we've left it. I put a locking charm on the door while he starts a fire. It's almost domestic. For a moment, just being there with him seems like all I could want, until he turns from the fireplace, kneeling on the rug, and turns his dark eyes up to me. He's blushing a little. Still a little bit shy. I'm hard already. "My Quin," I say softly, watching his eyes light up. It's my special name for him, from when we first got together and I told him that Quirinus seemed too formal and he just looked at me with that breathtaking helpless stare and said no-one had ever called him anything else. I think if I ever heard anyone else call him Quin, I'd kill them.

I only unbutton my robe far enough to yank it roughly over my head and toss it onto the old sofa as I cross the room. Finally he's on his knees in front of me and I stroke his hair, smiling down at him. "I've missed you so much." I trace the rim of his ear with a fingertip, trailing it down across his jaw, and his breathing and mine both quicken. "Missed your sweet mouth." His eyes widen at the implicit command, and he gasps softly, hands fluttering to my belt buckle.

His hands are cool against my skin as he eases my trousers down and again I want to pull him close and warm every inch of him... but when one of those chilled hands cups my balls and the other wraps around the base of my cock, I'm more worried about my knees giving out. At the first touch of his tongue I grab his shoulders for balance. His mouth is fever-hot and his hands are still cool and that's enough to set me to whimpering as if I'd never been touched before. But he knows me so well, knows where to lick and where to nibble and which moans mean 'slow down' or 'harder, faster, more...' and I don't even try to hold back, thrusting into his mouth, and I know I'm gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. He bruises easily, and they're so vivid on his fair skin. I'm already imagining what the marks of my fingers will look like, and that's what pushes me over the edge. I hear a loud moan and realize it's me. I can feel him gagging a little around me as I spurt into his throat and I'd pull back, but he's got his arms wrapped tightly around me. Right now that's all that's holding me up.

I slide down onto the rug, pulling him into an embrace. His eyes reflect the firelight

 

_red eyes, glittering. "What is it you've brought me now?" a sharp-edged laugh. "Honestly. If you meant him as a virgin sacrifice, you should have made sure he qualified." those eyes, fixed on me, looking through me, and an even sharper laugh. "But I think I can use this one, yes..."_

and the warm glow makes his pale skin look almost healthy. It's impossible to be so close to him and not kiss him, and his soft gasp as I press my mouth firmly against his sends another delighted shudder up my spine. And he's still dressed, I don't want him to be, but I don't want to pull away from his mouth either, so I'm fumbling a little awkwardly to try and strip him without giving up the taste of myself on his lips. His hands fly to my shirt-buttons and I can't help but laugh; I'd forgotten that I was still mostly dressed.

We're both laughing by the time we've gotten each other completely stripped. The warm, unguarded expression on his usually anxious face takes my breath away. I can't get enough of touching him. I can feel his ribs, the knobs of his spine... his wrists are so thin, his bones seem as delicate as a bird's. He clings to me as if he thinks I might push him away, even as I'm kissing him hungrily.

 

"Want you," I murmur. "I want you to fuck me."

 

His eyes flutter wide at that. "But I... we never... I never..."

 

And it's the truth. The passivity in him usually draws out a much more primal, aggressive instinct in me. But just now I want

 

_want someone screwing me because they love me, not for some depraved amusement or means of manipulation_

 

to burn this instant into my mind forever, to have that much more of him. And from the hardness pressing into my hip I can tell he's not exactly opposed to the idea. I push him onto his back and he blinks up at me with mild confusion, but he doesn't question.

 

He never questions me.

 

I retrieve the flask of almond oil from the pocket of my crumpled trousers and, straddling him, slick us both up, watching his face intently. "I love you," I breathe softly, before lowering myself onto his length.

 

"I love... oh!" His already-wide eyes open further, and his mouth is a perfect 'o'. Irresistible. I lean in to kiss him hungrily while I rock on top of him.

 

He whimpers into my mouth, but his need is, at the moment, stronger than his uncertainty. Grabbing my hips, he thrusts up into me, ragged and arrhythmical. I'm not expecting him to last long, but I'm savoring every part of the moment; the warmth of the fire, the thick rug under my knees, the familiar taste of his mouth and the little stifled gasps he's making, and his lovely long cock sliding up within me.

 

When he stiffens, moans, and shudders, I roll onto my side and pull him close. He's staring up at me with the same rapt adoration as the first time I'd lured him into a dusty storeroom for a rushed blowjob.

 

"Oh," he finally whispers. "Oh, Barty... I love you." He buries his face against my chest.

 

"I love you," I tell him fiercely. "You're mine. Forever."

 

The finger-shaped bruises are already darkening on his shoulders. They look just as I'd imagined.


End file.
